


Fire Of Life

by tielan



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Bar Fight, Community: ladies1st, Dom/sub, F/M, Female Character of Color, Gen, POV Female Character, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-31
Updated: 2011-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:24:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All she’d wanted was a drink and a chance to listen to the languages in the room with her Universal Translator turned off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire Of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Ladies1st ficathon 2009.

“ _Love is the Fire of Life; it either consumes or purifies_.”

A fight in a bar with one human against an opponent nearly twice his weight? Check. A circle of cheering spectators, handing over money in bets? Check. Said human having the shit beaten out of him but still keeping going? Check.

Lieutenant Nyota Uhura sometimes wondered why she even bothered guessing these things. Find ground zero of trouble in a bar while the Enterprise was in port and you found James T Kirk. The man was the firespark to dry tinder as the old saying went - or, in more modern parlance - the ignition implosion in a matter-antimatter engine.

And all she’d wanted was a drink and a chance to listen to the languages in the room with her Universal Translator turned off.

Nyota pushed through to the front to get a good look - just in case it was some other blond human male headbutting a solid mound of Senecan businessman.

It wasn’t.

She grimaced to herself. Only Kirk would take on a Senecan businessman in the belief that he could hold up his end of the fight. Senecans did business in the Earth diplomatic style - which was to say, polite and cut-throat - but their bodies were built like brawlers. And, when they got into a fight, they _fought_. The ony thing Nyota could see that might mitigate the situation was that it was a Senecan that Kirk was fighting and not a Gordani - the Senecans fought their own battles. The Gordani fought each others’ battles, too.

She winced as Kirk took one on the chin that snapped his head back and stretched him out on the floor.

McCoy was going to be saying some very pointed things when the Captain got back to the ship. And if Nyota didn’t step in before the Senecan kicked the hell out of Kirk’s ribs, McCoy would have some very pointed things to say to her, too.

A good hard shove through the specators took her into the middle of the circle. Two steps took her into the face of the Senecan businessman.

She dodged the punch the Senecan instinctively swung at her and grabbed his arm, ignoring the ropy hairs and the too-hot flesh under her palms as she locked his elbow into hyperextension to give her better leverage, then stepped around and behind him.

“Leave off,” she said. “He’s _damai sho namadi_ , already.”

Around them, various members of the crowd snorted, sighed, sniggered, or drew their breath.

The Senecan struggled for a moment before reason overcame the instinct to fight off the hyperextension lock and his shoulders relaxed. At nearly two heads taller than Nyota, and probably three times the weight, he’d probably thought he could shake her off. “You’re his _namado_?”

“Do you doubt it?”

“With a grip like that? No.” The Senecan tossed his head. “Let me go. _Sho mastidi, namadi_. Let me up!”

Nyota let him up and stepped back and to the side, keeping herself just out on the periphery of the Senecan’s gaze as well as taking a moment to reach down and offer Kirk a hand up.

He staggered a little, bumping into her close enough that only she would hear his query of, “ _Damai sho namadi_?”

She fisted her hand in his shirt and yanked him in close enough so she could nip his earlobe - salt and male and Jim Kirk on the tip of her tongue. She heard his breath catch in his chest - a sharp jerk of surprise and lust, maybe? His fingers drifted across the inch of bare skin between the hem of her top and the waist of her trousers, and a quicksilver ache slid between her thighs, molten hot. Nyota could just imagine him under her.

But now was not the time and here was not the place. She let herself ride the wave for a moment, then murmured, “Shut up and let me drive, Captain.”

“I love it when you talk dirty, Lieutenant.”

Nyota turned so she could see the Senecan contemplating them. “Satisfied?”

“Not by a long shot. But I’ll live.” The big man surveyed her, openly appreciative. “You wouldn’t be looking for another _sho bahara_ by any chance?”

It took her a second to realise she was being propositioned. Then a grin split across her face - amusement at the offer - and maybe a little pleasure at the compliment of sorts.

“Hey, the lady’s not interested, so back off!”

Nyota put her hand against Kirk’s belly, fingertips sliding just under the beltline. Through the cloth, his skin burned hot against her palm, hard muscles twitching at her touch. He shivered, and exhilaration stroked soft fingers across her skin, sensual pleasure in sexual power. “Kirk,” she admonished in cool, calm tones, “behave.”

He stopped, but the hand on her spine began stroking small circles against her skin, splintering her thoughts as she turned to the Senecan.

“Sorry. He’s not one for sharing.”

“No wonder.” The Senecan smirked. “Enjoy him. And if you don’t, come back and find me, _namado maste_.”

They got out of the bar and into the heavy flow of the crowds on Ceta V’s main city, Boreallis without being mobbed. Considering her interruption of the fight had meant a lot of bets went unpaid, Nyota considered this a very real possibility.

Any relief she felt lasted only a few steps out of the bar, Kirk’s hand firmly wrapped around hers. “Do I want the translation for _damai sho namadi_ , or what a _sho bahara_ is?”

He was smart enough to work it out from the context, Nyota felt no need to explain herself.

“Do I want to know how you got into that fight?”

“The guy was looking for one.”

Nyota arched a brow at him and saw him shrug, blue eyes lazy and warm enough to heat her cheeks. It made her sharper with him than she intended. “Lucky for him he found one, then.”

“Hey, I was looking for a drink, not a fight.”

“Looks like you found both.”

“And it looks like you found a friend. Does Spock know you go out bar-hopping without him to get propositioned by random men?”

She glanced over her shoulder, coolly amused. Spock and Kirk got along, but they still struck sparks from time to time - as two strong-willed, similarly-minded men would. “Why, Captain, it sounds like you care what happens to Spock.”

“Why, Lieutenant, it sounds like you don’t.”

Nyota glanced over her shoulder, brows arched, and found his face very close to hers. In the crush of the crowds pressing in on them from every side - it was the Solstice celebration, which meant a lot of street partying - she had a moment to reflect that James Kirk pressed up against her back was hot in more than one semantic form.

Spock was cool and calm, deep like the ocean and his currents swept her along when he was in full tide. Kirk was anything but cool and calm - fire and heat, unquenchable as a volcano’s eruption and vivid as flame. Nyota wondered if he’d be as hot in bed as Gaila had boasted.

“I’m just concerned for the emotional state of my bridge crew.”

“Admirable, if misplaced.” Even if she did break Spock’s heart - and she had no intent of anything of the kind - he’d be very careful about not letting it interfere with his duties.

“Captainable, and I’ll concede the misplaced in Spock’s case, but in yours? No.”

“My emotional state is perfectly balanced.”

“Which would be why we’re standing face to face in the middle of Main Street, Boreallis, your pupils are dilated, and you’re finding it hard to breathe.”

He smirked down at her as she fumed internally, but other than narrowing her eyes, Nyota answered coolly. “It’s crowded in the street, it’s dark out, and anyone would find it hard to breathe in this smog.” She slid her hand between them, felt his muscles tense as her fingers danced across his abdomen again. “And I’m not the one reacting here. Is that a weapon in your pocket, Captain?”

His hand slid around to the small of her back, hot fingers on her flesh, and eased her up against his hips - not forcing, just inviting. “I’ll always be happy to see you, Lieutenant.”

It was tempting - oh, it was tempting. Just about any female of a humanoid species would be hard-put to resist James Kirk’s blandishments, even if she was in committed relationships with a Vulcan she adored.

Nyota let the moment draw out. She let her hand rest against his abdomen, let her hips brush his. One heartbeat passed, then another. Still she stood well within temptation’s reach, letting the heat lick her with delicate desire.

Kirk swayed in; she stepped back and put a finger on his lips. Then she let her mouth curve with a wicked smile. “Promises, promises, Captain.”

His lips pursed slightly, and blue eyes gleamed. “Maybe one day you’ll let me keep them.”

Fire leaped, heated interest, but Nyota merely smiled. “Maybe.”


End file.
